


Dolo (deceit)

by lanselot



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (BBC Radio), Шерлок Холмс | Sherlock Holmes (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Holmes being soft as heck, actress, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanselot/pseuds/lanselot
Summary: Matilda Gray just moved in to 221B Baker Street and has made her acquaintances with the insufferable, annoying Sherlock Holmes and his friend - whose blog she reads on the daily - Dr. John Watson. After multiple pleasantries Sherlock has begun to become acquainted to Til, much like he is with John. But with Moriarty on the lose and multiple cases randomly spouting up as clients appear at 221B Baker Street, things were bound to get messy.Just like how Sherlock wanted it.





	1. Chapter one: The Lying Detective

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first time writing a full on Sherlock fanfiction with an original character so i hope you give it a chance. this chapter isn't much yet but hopefully the next few will be better! i hope you stick around long enough to find out.

221B Baker street was relatively chilly by the time Autumn rolls around. The wind was carrying around teeth that seemed to nip at any uncovered piece of skin exposed to the air. I always made it a point to wear a scarf and long socks every time I go out. But today, stupidly, I have misplaced my scarf and had to walk all the way back home to get it.  

 

Seeing the straightened knocker I shake my head and whispered "Mycroft" under my breath knowing full well that the idiot's brother was here as well, for a reason one might never know. 221B Baker street has been quiet; something it hasn’t been for a long time ever since Sherlock Holmes' has inhabited it. But today, of all days, it was quiet, almost lonesome. There was an atmosphere of mourning over Mary's death. 

 

John hasn't been around for long and Sherlock refused any company that wasn't his; which of course included me and Mrs. Hudson who, for some reason, can still stomach going into that flat which reeked of homemade drugs. Sherlock was going down under again, and since he refused to show himself I had no idea of the severity and how down under he has went. Judging by the fact that Mycroft was here, I'm guessing pretty far down.  

 

"This has gone on far enough, Sherlock!" I could hear Mycroft screaming as I remove my gloves by the bottom of the staircase "you remove your so-called 'chemist' from the premises and go get John! You two drive me absolutely insane. You're running around like pre-pubescent teenagers having a lovers' spat."  

 

Mrs. Hudson enters my line of sight, she brings a tray of tea containing three cups and a teapot. Once she sees me she brightens up "oh, hello dear! Do you want me to bring you a cup as well?"  

 

"No, Mrs. Hudson it's quite fine I've just gotten back to get me scarf." I said with a smile "uh what is, going on up there?"  

 

"Oh, the usual. Mycroft has decided to pay Sherlock a visit. Sherlock's really outdone himself this time. You should see the state of him, worst I've seen him in a long time." Mrs. Hudson said to me. 

 

"I know you're not one for cheap sentiment, brother dear, but I just killed John's wife and he's not a robot like you and me." I could Sherlock slur as I roll my eyes. 

 

"Still unkind to guests, Mrs. Hudson?" I ask. 

 

"Oh, yes. But better than before he doesn't throw a knife every time I enter anymore. It's quite delightful." Mrs. Hudson smiles and I shake my head "you ought to give a visit dear. You and John are the only two people who care about him who he lets in."  

 

"Yes Mrs. Hudson but I've learnt my lesson. He said he didn't need help, he made it quite clear." I say with a sad smile.  

 

"Oh come on, now. It's  _Sherlock_. He speaks out of his arse but never really means it come on dear, give him a visit." Mrs. Hudson nudges me with her elbow and I chuckle.  

 

"Yes yes yes, now get out!" I hear Sherlock shout out and I shake my head. 

 

Mycroft comes bounding down, his face was distraught but didn’t show much – the Holmes trademark. Once he sees me however he sends me a polite smile "Ms. Gray, I believe it is your turn."  

 

"W-what me?" I ask.  

 

"Why yes, do with that what you must. Sherlock has reached a place even I can't quite reach. I was hoping with your – expertise you might be able to talk some sense into him." Mycroft sends another smile, to which I roll my eyes to. 

 

"What, acting?"  

 

Mycroft shrugs and takes his scarf from the pegs lining the wall. "I must be on then. See you around Ms. Gray, Mrs. Hudson."  

 

The Holmes brothers always fancied a little bit of mystery, and a dramatic flair. It was annoying. I groan and put my coat on one of the pegs before marching my way up to Sherlock's room of isolation. As soon as I open the door the smells hit me; it was ghastly and smelled strongly of various drugs and narcotics.  

 

"Sherlock?" I shout as I cover my nose "what is going on? I leave you for two weeks and this is what happens?"  

 

"Matilda Gray." Sherlock soon bounces in sight as he uses the fireplace to steady himself "are you here to give me another sermon? Because I am really not in the mood and Mycroft has fed my ears enough to last me another month."  

 

The state of his flat was way worse than when I first saw him at the lowest of the low. Papers were strewn about and almost a large thick piece of plastic separated the main area from the dining room. Sherlock didn't look any better; he hasn’t shaven in a while as stubble littered his chiseled jaw. His eyes were bloodshot, and he couldn’t even stand still. He once again attempts to steady himself but his hand slips making him almost fall to the floor. I spring to action, using my arm and looping it to his back so he doesn't smack his head on the floor and possibly cause a concussion.  

 

"Christ Sherlock." I say as I wrap his arm around the back of my neck, carrying him "What the hell happened to you?"  

 

"I killed Mary, Matilda." He says weakly. I rolled my eyes and, for once, ignored the fact that he called me by my whole name.  

 

"I ain't listening to a word you're saying unless you're sober, Sherlock Holmes." I shake my head "let's go to your room before you make any more of a fuss and burn your house down."    
 

I pull the thick plastic over our heads and scream as I saw a man sitting on one of his dining chairs. He screams as well and jumps back a little, easily startled.  

 

"Who in the bloody- are you Billy?" I ask and Sherlock groans out - I take it as a sign of approval. Sherlock's head was practically drooping as if he was submitting himself to be beheaded. 

 

"Th-that's me." Billy said practically shaking. 

 

"Look just get out please, thank you." I said, giving him a smile before huffing and continuing on bringing Sherlock to his bedroom. 

 

"B-but Mr. Holmes!" He complains 

 

"Bill if I see your face by the time I put this wanker to bed I swear to god I will sprain your arm." I threaten. I see him nod before he makes a mad dash out of the apartment.  

 

"No need to be rude,  _Matilda_." Sherlock complains, adding emphasis on my full name to piss me off as I twist the knob to his room.  

 

"Shut up Sherlock." I say, annoyed.  

 

Sherlock annoying me wasn't exactly a one-time occurrence. Ever since I moved in here he has been a rather huge cock but I tolerated him because despite him being a high functioning sociopath – called him a psychopath once, didn't end well for me – he had a good heart and cared dearly for his friends. Though, of course, that was only about 5% of the time. The other 95% consisted of him being a condescending asshole.  

 

I put Sherlock to bed in the most gentle way I could before putting all of his body parts in it – his legs were hanging off and he was too wasted to even put it on his bed. I wrap a blanket around him as he almost instantly cuddled into his pillow and curled up in his sheets. 

 

"Get some rest, Holmes." I exclaim as I huff and make my way outside to clean up his mess. 

 

Well, looks like my grocery shopping will have to wait.  

 

 

,,,  

 

It took a total of 3 hours before Sherlock has woken up. His eyes blink open and he squints, affected by the light. It was now 4 in the afternoon. He looks around inquisitively, then his eyes land on me.  

 

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked. I snort.  

 

"You're the world's only consulting detective, and you can't figure out the fact that I'm painting your nails?" I say as I adjust his hand and add a layer of black nail polish to his pinky "now, Mr. Holmes, hold very still or else this is gonna get on your cuticles and trust me, you wouldn't want that."  

 

"Har har funny what have you done woman?" He asks and I laugh.  

 

"Why don’t you see for yourself?" I say as I let go of his hand and stand up from his chair.  

 

He attempts to stand up, but almost immediately slams back to his bed. He looks up to his right arm which was in handcuffs stuck to the bed post.  

 

"What th-"  

 

"Sherlock Mrs. Hudson and I both agree that you need to see John and talk to him, you know, like grown-ups do." I tell him. 

 

"What did you do to my flat?" Sherlock asked still trying to rid himself of the restraints.  

 

"Sherlock please stop embarrassing yourself its getting sad." I say, pointing towards his pointless struggle. 

 

"Woman!" He almost shouts as he tries to get out of the handcuffs through random shaking.  

 

"Sherlock you're smarter than that." I say and he finally stops "you know I won't let you go not even if you beg."  

 

"not even if I tell you where your lost scarf is that you came back here to find?"  

 

"No, Sherlock. But, tempting." I say as I turn my back to him and go on my cellphone "I sold it all, Sherlock."  

 

"Sold what, woman?" I knew he was getting annoyed by the intonation of his voice and the fact that he's calling me woman rather than my established nickame, Til. 

 

"Your meth lab kit. Well not so much sold as donated. Molly Hooper was really pleased by your donation." I say as Mrs. Hudson finally picks up. I tell her that Sherlock's awake and that our plan was a go. She hooted at the door not a minute later.  

 

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock said as Mrs. Hudson ties both of his hands in front of him. 

 

"Because we care about you, Sherlock." I smile as Mrs. Hudson drags him by the hands and loads him to the boot of her car.  


	2. Chapter Two: Good day, Mr. Holmes.

Meeting Sherlock Holmes for the first time was, an experience. Not a bad one, but most definitely not a good one. After scouting throughout London for a sustainable, and cheap, place to stay I came across an ad for 221B Baker Street which offered a small place by its basement and very minimal rent fees, perfect for me.  

 

I haven't been in London long, almost 6 months and I've been looking for a job. Sadly, being an actress didn't pay very well.  

 

As soon as I set foot in 221B Baker Street Mrs. Hudson greeted me with a smile. She took my luggage and showed me her place, offered me a cup of tea, before giving a tour of the apartment. She told me that upstairs, the room was owned by Sherlock Holmes and John Watson- who I immediately recognized due to John's blog. Mrs. Hudson told me to say hi, as the phone in her flat was ringing and she needed to answer it. I shrug and take my luggage, bringing it to the top of the stairs before knocking on the door. John opened it with a smile.  

 

"May I help you?" He asked politely "Are you here with a case?"  

 

"Um, no I'm moving in at the basement, Mrs. Hudson told me to say hey." I say with a smile.  

 

"Oh great, want to come in?" John opened the door enough for me to enter and there sat the great Sherlock Holmes.  

 

He was staring at his laptop, his hands pressed together as his index fingers barely touches his lips. Tufts of curly black hair was strewn about atop his head. For some reason, his chiseled jaw and cheekbones were even more chiseled due to the fact that his jaw was clenched.  

 

"Sherlock, visitor, be nice." John said taking his attention. His blue eyes intensely stared at me, up and down, before returning back to his laptop. 

 

"I'm sorry about him, usually he's very chatty but we're on a rather intriguing case." John said.  

 

"Oh it's no worries. I know, I've read about the two of you in your blog. I'm a big fan." I said returning the polite smile "it's nice to meet the men behind the amazing discoveries and outlandish cases."  

 

"I believe we didn't quite catch your name." Sherlock finally spoke, closing his laptop and standing up, only to sit back down on a different chair. 

 

"Oh it's Matilda, Matilda Gray but please call me Til. Matilda sounds like an old person's name." I say and smile.  

 

Sherlock hums "and how's um, Ireland this time of year Matilda?"  

 

"Wait, I'm sorry?" I ask. 

 

"Oh God." John begins to groan.  

 

"Matilda Gray. Gray is a surname having Gaelic traces hence you must be from Ireland- or Scotland but judging from the few whims of an accent you have left it's Ireland and since it's almost hardly noticeable it means you've been in London for quite a while. You've arrived here all alone meaning you might not have had many English companionships so I would suggest you'd be here about 6 months tops before you began losing your accent." He says, with full confidence. I give off an expression of 'eh' expecting full well for the detective to deduce me the moment I set foot on his house.  

 

"Well, go on." I said "what more can you see from me?" 

 

"You aren't-" John said almost disbelievingly, he couldn’t believe that I was letting Sherlock Holmes deduce me. Most people would stop him by now, but I didn't. I was interested.  

 

"Are you really?" Even Sherlock couldn't believe that I was letting him.  

 

"Go on. Amuse yourself." I say as I lean back by the wall and cross my arms.  

 

I swear I saw Sherlock's eyes twinkle. Mischief and interest was highly evident in his eyes as he squint, almost as if a way of telling me he accepts my challenge. He leans forward, resting his elbows by his thighs and stares at me with his intense eyes looking me up and down. After about 5 seconds he finally spoke: 

 

"Actress." He said. I raise an eyebrow, impressed. "Well, aspiring. Not very successful at that area however. Suffering from slight insomnia, must be the drinking problem you've acquired ever since the domestic violence you suffered, mother, father, past boyfriend." My eye twitches as I grit my teeth "ah past boyfriend yes well good riddance of you have to have gotten rid of that rude sod then."  

 

"Stop." I say. 

 

"Worn soles of your shoes would suggest that you've been moving around a lot, possibly escaping him or possibly just wanting better opportunities. However you know that no matter how far you go you know that your nightmares will never escape you which would explain the lack of sleep."  

 

"Stop or I swear I will- I will-" my eyes dart around the room looking for something blunt I could possibly throw at Sherlock Holmes' smug face "I will th- throw that skull!"  

 

"Hmm stuttering. Must not be getting the intense roles then, mostly bystander, judging by the fact that you're not very convincing in throwing empty threats, or just not very used in throwing around threats in general, anyway,  _Til_ , it has been a pleasure but I need to go back to more, pressing engagements. John." He stands up and returns to the chair he once sat on as I entered.  

 

I stand there in disbelief. I half expected him to know what I had for breakfast, not my entire life story. 

 

"Hoo hoo!" I hear a hoot by the door and I see Mrs. Hudson "come dear let me show you your room."  

 

"Right, thank you Mrs. Hudson." John said as he lifts my luggage "I do dearly apologize, for Sherlock he tends to be like that it's driven me crazy more times than one. But he means well."  

 

"It's okay Dr. Watson." I reassure "not the first asshole I ever met. I was in a relationship with one once. Plus, I kinda asked for it didn't I?"  

 

"Call me John, please." He sends me a polite smile and I smile back. 

 

"Good day, Mr. Holmes!" I say and, without turning his head, Sherlock waves his hand almost as if waving me off.  

 

~  

 

As soon as Til left the room John closed the door, looking inquisitively at his best friend Sherlock who was still typing away at his laptop. 

 

"Judging by your lost puppy dog look you want me to tell you how I found out about the domestic abuse." Sherlock said, not removing his crystal blue eyes from the screen.  

 

"No I would like to know – even though I probably already know the answer to this – why you thought it was okay to bring something so traumatic up as if it was just another passing conversation." John said, and after a slight pause he exasperatedly said "and now that you've said it, yes, I also want to know how you knew about the domestic abuse." 

 

"Well she asked to be deduced I all but obliged." Sherlock said, and it was hard to argue with him. John let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine if I told you how I found out will we go back to the case immediately?"  

 

"Faster than you can say 'damn it John'."   

 

Sherlock stared at John with a disbelieving look before going on about his spiel. "Make up. There were traces of foundation on her neck and under her eyes unblended mostly due to being in a hurry suggesting that she was either running away from something or simply ran out of time to get ready due to her insomnia which  caused her to wake up late. There was also smudge foundation on the collar of her shirt and on the rim of her eyeglasses. Now her hair is appearing to be a bit frizzy and dull. It can't be because she's lazy because judging by the trimmed cuticles and the makeup she likes to pamper herself. Now, frizzy hair and dullness can be due to stress or excessive pulling so putting all those together, bam, domestic abuse."  

 

John looked at Sherlock bewildered. He could never really get used to Sherlock finding such big things over so little details. "But that's just wrong, isn’t it?" Sherlock said once "the smallest details make the biggest difference."  

 

"Any day now, John." Sherlock said impatiently and John snapped back to his senses and immediately got to work.


	3. Chapter 3: the first case together

It was a nice warm day, and after doing substantial research I had decided to paint my walls. The basement was a fixer upper, it wasn't much and can only be used as a bedroom, as Mrs. Hudson had briefed me, and said that in case I needed the telly or a kitchen I could always to go either Sherlock and John's or Mrs. Hudson's herself. Despite knowing that I would only be spending my time there sleeping, it would be nice to actually have more of a home-y feel to it rather than it just feeling like a cold dank basement.  

 

Tying my hair up in a bun I take a can of sky blue paint and begin to go to town. I didn’t have any sort of furniture; I've lived here for a week and most of my time was spent sleeping on John and Sherlock's couch – much to Sherlock's contempt. But today, I have decided that I needed a room to myself. I felt bad being an inconvenience to the two, plus, it was about time.  

 

I begin painting one wall of the room while shaking my head to some music when I hear the annoying deep voice that belonged to Sherlock Holmes. 

 

"John? Where are you, John?! Mrs. Hudson?" I could hear from upstairs.  

 

"Oh no, don't go down here please please." I pray silently as I stop painting and stand near my door, hearing his footsteps.  

 

Bugger.  

 

"Matilda? Where is everybody?" He asks, thankfully not opening the door. 

 

"Um John offered to help so he went and picked up more paint and Mrs. Hudson I believe is out running errands." I said through the door. "And for the nth time, it's Til."  

 

"Oh lovely guess I have to resort to your help sadly," he says, ignoring what I just said. I roll my eyes and open the door anyway.  

 

"What is it, Sherlock?" I say "I'm painting my walls."  

 

"Yes well I'm trying to solve a murder so we all are being inconvenienced right now." He sent me a forced smile "I've hit a wall which isn’t exactly the most common occurrence and since John isn't around and any more holes on the wall might cause it to fall down I've resorted to asking for help."  

 

Sherlock grabs photos from his pockets showing a room which appeared to belong to a teenager. Everything was in disarray except for her bedside table. 

 

"Was there any sign of retaliation?" I asked Sherlock as I got the photos from his hands, getting a closer look.  

 

"Yes, actually. We've no sign of the intruder after he fled with absolutely no traces. What's odd is that the bedside table was entirely unharmed and the victim died on her bed, lying down as if to fall asleep. Now, with that sort of struggle it is highly unlikely that the intruder simply positioned her there and then left. With all this ruckus and her mum being home it would give him about 5 minutes tops, to bail out that window and-"  

 

"Wait, is that glow in the dark nail polish?" I say, interrupting Sherlock's detective spiel and point to the open –and spilled – bottle of nail polish which was the only thing messy on her bedside table.  

 

"What?" He says grabbing the photo "no that's clear nail polish."  

 

"Sherlock that's a glow in the dark one. I have one of those, hold on a sec." I move towards one of my luggage holding my beauty products and bring out the exact same nail polish. "I use it so I can see my glasses in the dark. I'm blind without my contacts and or glasses."  

 

"Astounding." Sherlock said in complete astonishment, looking at me surprised "your mediocrity could be of use, after all."  

 

I give him a look "is that all?"  

 

"Yes. Thank you, Matilda." He grabs me by my shoulders and gives me a rather stiff kiss on the cheek. I stand still shocked. "I'm phoning Lestrade and telling him to bring UV lights, or, turn off all the lights. See you around Matilda!"  

 

He bounds off, quickly leaving as quick as he came. Once the shock has worn off, I shake my head, close the door and resume painting.  

 

That was the first case I had helping Sherlock Holmes. After a while I became John 2.0. I covered for John when he had a date and was a third head when searching for clues. This went on for months. I hung out with Sherlock more, made acquaintance with Mycroft, and helped them solve crimes.  

 

That was the beginning of what seemed to be friendship with Sherlock Holmes. Living with the both of them was never boring as they were almost always in peril. I've learned a lot from the both of them. 

 

But my affiliation with them didn’t always bear positive fruits.  

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism is always welcomed :---)


End file.
